


Once We Collide, We Snap Into Place

by elivigar



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elivigar/pseuds/elivigar
Summary: Ashton raises an eyebrow and takes a selfie. ‘doesn’t matter if I WANT you to think i'm cute if you don’t, does it?‘Seems like you want me to think you are tho,’ says the next response, and this time, the selfie shows Michael with a full-on grin.Ashton makes a face that he snaps a photo of. ‘excuse me???’‘You’re flirting with me :))))) Weird type of flirting but I’m not objecting!’Four times Ashton denies having flirted with Michael, and one time he doesn’t deny it.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Once We Collide, We Snap Into Place

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, [Bella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess) aka [clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com) threw a prompt at me, this time because I said I'd never written Mashton, but that I'd like to give it a go. The prompt was (literally, this is copypaste): "you’ve been flirting with me over snap for like two weeks. when i asked you, you said you weren’t, but trust me, i know flirting when i see it, and you definitely were." And I also decided to try my hand at a 4+1 format, simply because I've never done it, and this became the result! Oh, and I threw in some side-Cake, because they cute, and I also went away from the Snapchat of it all in the last... idk, the last part. I swear to God, the next fic I dedicate to someone is gonna be dedicated to someone other than Bella, cos this is getting ridiculous. Anyway, hope some of y'all enjoy, come talk on [Tumblr](http://ashctnirwin.tumblr.com) if you want♥

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ **1** ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Letting himself fall backwards onto the couch, Ashton swings his legs up to rest in Calum’s lap. He grabs the blanket that’s flung over one of the back cushions and throws it over himself, adjusting it until it’s covering him from chin to toe.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Calum says, tapping his fingers against Ashton’s calf. “My day was fine, Ashton, thanks for asking. How was yours?”

“Shut up,” Ashton grunts.

“Yes, dear roomie, I too appreciate our camaraderie, our unconditional support for one another, how we-”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Calum rolls his eyes. “Wanna tell me what’s got you in such a charming mood? Not to put you on a pedestal, but you’re usually a little more bright and shiny than this when you get home. Not a lot, mind you, but a little.”

Freeing his arms from under the blanket, Ashton shrugs. “Nothing in particular, just a long day. Lectures were dull and uninspiring, work was exhausting because, you know, it’s almost Christmas and when it’s almost Christmas, everyone’s wants fucking hot chocolate.”

“Ah, yes, providing the people with mugs of hot chocolate,” Calum says, voice laced with sarcasm. “I understand your dilemma. I’d be pissed, too.”

“It’s not the hot chocolate that’s the problem, it’s that _everyone_ wants it,” Ashton says dully. “I’ve made so many of them in the last two weeks that I could probably do it in my sleep, both hands tied behind my back.”

“Dunno how you’re sleeping if it involves having your hands tied behind your back, but okay.”

Ashton grunts, but is spared of having to actually respond when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Fishing it out, he unlocks it, frowning when he realises that someone’s added him on Snapchat; when did he give his Snapchat username to anyone?

“Do we know anyone with a first name starting with an M?” he asks after looking at the person’s username - M_Cliff - for a bit, racking his brain for information that just isn’t there. “And whose last name is Cliff?”

Calum’s face morphs into a pensive frown for a moment, then he lights up. “Yeah, Michael,” he says. When Ashton merely raises an eyebrow, he adds, “Clifford. Luke’s roommate?”

Ashton blinks, thinking back a couple of weeks. Calum wanted to make dinner for Luke, because apparently that’s what a good boyfriend does on occasion, and Luke came over with a messy-haired, weirdly dressed guy who he introduced to Ashton as his roommate before flinging himself into Calum’s arms, knocking over an open bottle of olive oil in the process. They all ate dinner together, and Ashton vaguely remembers exchanging a couple of pleasantries with Michael and that he had a forthcoming smile, but that’s about it.

“Why’s he adding me on Snapchat?” he asks, looking back on his phone.

“Dunno, maybe you just showed up his suggested-list and he figured why not?”

“There’s a suggested-list on Snapchat?”

“How old are you, again? _Twenty_ -five or _sixty_ -five?”

Ashton ignores him. Considering the situation for a few more seconds, he presses ‘Accept’, then puts the phone back in his pocket. A cooking show is being broadcast on the TV, and while Ashton has about as much interest in cooking as he has in tropical snakes, he focuses his attention on it. Just as he’s thinking to himself that surely there is a limit as to how much garlic should go into one batch of lasagna, his phone vibrates once again, this time with an incoming Snap.

Opening it, Ashton lets out an involuntary snort of laughter. It’s a selfie of Michael, one taken ridiculously close to his face, with a caption that reads, ‘ _Hello!_ ’

Taking a picture of his blanket-covered legs, Ashton types out a quick, ‘ _hi, any reason you added me or do you just think i’m cute?_ ’

A response comes after a minute or so. It’s another selfie, taken a little further away this time and showing a smiling Michael. He’s wearing a snapback and his hair is sticking out from underneath it; he looks well and truly ridiculous, in Ashton’s opinion. ‘ _Do you want me to think you’re cute?_ ’ the caption reads.

Ashton raises an eyebrow and takes a selfie. ‘ _doesn’t matter if I WANT you to think i'm cute if you don’t, does it?_

‘ _Seems like you want me to think you are tho,_ ’ says the next response, and this time, the selfie shows Michael with a full-on grin.

Ashton makes a face that he snaps a photo of. ‘ _excuse me???_ ’

‘ _You’re flirting with me :))))) Weird type of flirting but I’m not objecting!_ ’

‘ _i’m not flirting with you???? i asked a question, not my fault you chose to interpret it the wrong way???_ ’

Michael’s next Snap is a smiling selfie with no caption, and Ashton rolls his eyes before he mutes his phone and puts it on the coffee table. He wasn’t fucking _flirting_.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ **2** ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Ashton is doing his very best to not nod off, but it’s _hard_ , because it’s eight fucking fifteen in the morning, he hasn’t had the chance to grab coffee yet, and his biostatistics professor has the most monotonous voice between planet earth and bloody Pluto. Nonetheless, he dutifully takes notes while occasionally dragging his fingers through his hair, which is getting greasier and greasier by the minute. Maybe if it gets so greasy it starts dripping, he’ll be asked to leave the lecture hall, thus having a valid excuse for going home to take a nap.

Suppressing another yawn, Ashton’s attention is caught by his phone, which is lying next to his notebook. The sound’s off, but the screen just lit up to announce a new Snap. Opening the app, Ashton smiles weakly upon realising that it’s from Michael, and he throws a quick look around himself to make sure no one’s judging him for using his phone during a lecture before he opens it.

It’s a picture of a lecture hall, albeit a different one than the one’s Ashton in. Written in large letters are, ‘ _Any chances of an asteroid strike?_ ’

Stifling a chuckle, Ashton zooms in on the whiteboard behind the professor. ‘ _funny, i was just wondering the same thing.._ ’

‘ _What are you studying again? I think Cal mentioned it once, but I can’t remember_ ’ Michael writes in the chat.

‘ _marine biology, i’ll be done this spring,_ ’ Ashton replies.

‘ _Lucky! Still another year and a half to go for me :(_ ’

‘ _and you’re studying..?_ ’

‘ _Chemical engineering :)_ ’

‘ _ah so when another chernobyl-like tragedy strikes, you’ll be the one to blame??_ ’

‘ _You know it :))) How good was that series tho?!_ ’

‘ _fifty shades of amazing!! i was just thinking the other day that it’s high time i rewatch it.._ ’

‘ _Here we go with the flirting again :)))))_ ’

Ashton’s jaw drops indignantly, and the only reason he doesn’t scoff out loud is that there’s a lull in the lecturing and he doesn’t wanna attract any attention. Drawing his eyebrows together and pursing his lips into a displeased pout, he takes a selfie, then writes, ‘ _how was that flirting?!!_ ’

Michael sends a selfie back, and he’s wearing a black beanie today, pulled far enough down to hide most of his hair. ‘ _You insinuated that you wanted to watch Chernobyl with me :)))_ ’

Something that could either be pure annoyance, annoyance mixed with amusement, or amusement mixed with incredulousness is starting to simmer in Ashton’s chest. He grimaces at the camera, making sure to get two extra chins in there, and snaps another selfie, but doesn’t caption it before he sends it.

A shit-eating grin and a, ‘ _Hot!_ ’ is Michael’s response.

Ashton rolls his eyes and puts his phone away.

He makes it through his lecture, then spends a couple of hours in the library. Attempting, but failing, to revise his microbial ecology notes, he waits for the clock to strike noon before he heads to the café for his shift. It’s been a few days since he came home and complained to Calum about all the hot chocolate he has to make, and when he’s been standing behind the counter for about an hour, he comes to the conclusion that said complaining is gonna repeat itself today if Calum’s willing to listen. He wonders what it is about Christmas that makes people so inclined to order hot chocolate at all hours of the day; isn’t the sweetness and joy and festive mood that hangs in the very air they breathe enough? Is it really necessary to fill one’s stomach with extra sweetness and joy?

He makes it home a little before five thirty in the afternoon, and while he watches Calum make them dinner, he all but goes on a rant about how sick he is of hot chocolate. The tirade ends when Calum calls him a sad, bitter old man, and tells him to go wait in the living room unless he wants to be slapped in the balls with a wooden spatula.

It’s only after he’s sat down, turned on the TV and pulled out his phone to check his notifications that he sees that he received another Snap from Michael about thirty minutes ago. Opening it, he snorts; it’s another selfie of Michael, but Luke’s splayed out on his front on the floor in the background with a facial expression that bears witness to a hundred years of agony.

‘ _Luke’s being dramatic :))_ ’ the caption says.

‘ _and you’re helping him calm down or encouraging the dramatics?_ ’

‘ _What do you think?_ ’ Michael types in the chat.

‘ _i think you’re a horrible roommate and that i’m gonna tell on you to cal_ ’

‘ _Cal would encourage me to encourage Luke’s dramatics!_ ’

Ashton bites his lip. ‘ _why would he do that?_ ’

‘ _Because a dramatic Luke is a feisty Luke and a feisty Luke is a Luke that wants to get down and dirty :))))_ ’

Taking a photo of himself making a disgusted grimace, Ashton writes, ‘ _thanks for the nightmares!!_ ’

Michael doesn’t reply, and Ashton isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ **3** ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Slamming the front door closed behind himself, Ashton kicks his shoes off and hangs up his jacket before stalking into the living room with a shout of, “Calum!” It takes him a hot minute to register that Calum’s not alone on the couch, and when he does, he says, “Oh, good, Luke, you’re here.”

Luke looks up from where his head is resting on Calum’s shoulder, and gives Ashton a blinding smile. “See?” he says to Calum. “I told you he’d start appreciating my presence sooner or later.”

“He doesn’t look happy, so I wouldn’t be too sure,” Calum laughs. “What happened this time, Ash?”

Sitting down in the corner of the couch, Ashton folds his legs up in front of himself. “Well, it just so happens that I’d like to ask Luke to tell his roommate to stop harassing me,” he states.

Calum snorts. “Michael’s harassing you?” he asks. “How so?”

“He won’t stop accusing me of flirting with him.”

“ _Are_ you flirting with him?” Luke asks, eyes wide and innocent as he looks at Ashton.

“No, Luke, I’m not flirting with him,” Ashton snaps.

“Are you sure?” Calum asks.

“You’ve known me for almost ten years, Cal; when have you ever seen me flirt outside a bar or a club?”

“In the conventional way, like normal people flirt? Never, I don’t think.”

“Exactly, so-” Ashton cuts himself off when Calum’s words sink in fully, then narrows his eyes. “What do you mean ‘like normal people flirt’?”

“I mean that you do flirt, you just don’t do it in a… normal way,” Calum says, grinning. “You do it by being sarcastic, borderline rude, and even more of a grump than usual.” Turning to Luke, he adds, “He can’t handle love, this one.”

“That’s sad,” Luke muses. “Maybe he’d be less lonely and grumpy if he learned how to handle it.”

“I’m still here,” Ashton says sourly. “And I’m neither lonely nor a grump, and I do know how to handle love.”

“Which is why you haven’t had one single relationship for as long as we’ve known each other, just a quick fuck here and there whenever the mood has struck you,” Calum says as he pulls Luke closer to himself and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Ashton grabs a throw pillow and clutches it against his chest. “Maybe I don’t _want_ a relationship. Have you considered that?”

“Of course we have,” Luke says. “And we’ve come to the conclusion that you do.”

“You- oh my God,” Ashton groans. “You’re talking about my love life behind my back now? If you have nothing better to talk about with each other, I think you should be more concerned with your own love life than with mine.”

“Your _lack_ of a love life, Ash,” Calum corrects, smoothly ignoring the dig. “And… I mean, if you’re happy alone, that’s good for you.”

Ashton doesn’t respond, just hugs the pillow tighter and shifts his attention to the TV. He _is_ happy alone, he doesn’t need a romantic relationship in his life to feel fulfilled or whatever; he has friends, he has his family, he has uni and work to focus on, and he has Calum to cook him dinner almost every day of the week. His life is good, it’s comfortable, it’s stable and it’s predictable; it’s just the way he likes it. 

But then there are the days when Calum isn’t home, the nights he stays at Luke’s, when Ashton’s eating dinner alone on the couch, and when he can’t sleep at night. On those days, he thinks that maybe it would be nice to have someone to kiss, someone to hold in his sleep, someone to wake up to, someone to go on dates with, someone to have intimate conversations with in a way that he can’t bring himself to do with a friend, not even with Calum because it somehow feels like crossing a line.

But then Calum will return home, they’ll have dinner together, they’ll tell each other about their days, or he’s finally able to fall asleep, and the longing thoughts pass, not to be heard from again for a few weeks. Ashton likes those peaceful weeks.

“What happened, anyway?” Calum asks after a bit. “I mean, why did he think you were flirting?”

“Because for once, I was the one to send the first Snap,” Ashton grumbles. “And it didn’t mean shit! I sent that Snap to, like, everyone on my list.”

Calum smirks. “I haven’t gotten any Snaps from you all day,” he says, and Luke chimes in with, “Me neither.”

“Okay, so I sent it to everyone on my list except for you two, because you suck and you don’t deserve to behold my photographic hilarities.”

“Oh, so it was a dickpic?” Calum asks brightly. “I guess I can understand why he’d interpret that as flirting.”

“What?” Luke says, eyes darting back and forth between Calum and Ashton. He looks completely and utterly lost for a full four seconds before he giggles. “Oh. Because his dick is funny. Gotcha.”

“God, you two really found each other,” Ashton says flatly. “I’m going to bed, see you tomorrow. Or whenever I feel like looking at either of your faces again.”

“Love you, too,” Calum calls after him as he heads to his bedroom and closes the door. It’s not until he’s gotten undressed and crawled under his covers that he checks the time. A few minutes past nine. While Ashton refuses to acknowledge Calum and Luke’s claims that he’s _grumpy_ , he may have to admit that there’s some truth to Calum’s accusations about him being old.

Plugging his phone into the charger, he flips over to lie on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows while he starts scrolling through Reddit in search for something interesting to keep him occupied for a bit. He reckons that going to bed at nine and actually attempting to fall asleep at nine are two completely different things. Echoes of Calum and Luke’s words bounce around in his head, though, and as one minute after the other ticks by, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore. It all comes to a screeching halt when he opens Snapchat on a whim, takes a quick selfie and writes, ‘ _you don’t wanna be that asshole who mistakes kindness for flirting you know_ ’, and sends it to Michael before he has the chance to give it a second thought.

He receives an answer after a couple of minutes, and he’s faintly surprised to see that Michael also appears to be in bed, albeit lying on his back. His eyelids look heavy, and he’s smiling sleepily at the camera, and his covers are pulled up to his armpits. ‘ _I don’t, but even if I did, it’s not like you’ve ever been particularly kind, is it?_ ’ the caption says.

‘ _so now you’re calling me mean??? why the hell would i ever wanna flirt with someone who thinks i’m mean???_ ’ Ashton writes on another selfie.

In the next picture Michael sends, he’s lying on his side, half his face mushed into his pillow, and he’s still smiling. It occurs to Ashton that it’s the first time he’s ever seen Michael without any sort of headwear, and it’s both unsettling and charming at once. ‘ _I don’t think you’re mean, I find your grouchy way of being pretty charming actually :))_ ’

‘ _now who’s flirting??_ ’

‘ _That would be me but I’ve never denied it, have I? That’s all you!_ ’

Ashton sucks in his bottom lip and gnaws on it. Lowering his phone for a moment, he then looks back at Michael’s smiling face, the gentle tilt of his lips, the soft curves of his cheeks, which are partly hidden by messy strands of blond hair.

‘ _i’m not flirting with you, never have,_ ’ he writes in the end.

‘ _I think I can recognise flirting when I see it, even if your way of doing it is a little strange :))_ ’ 

It’s pretty much the same thing Calum told him earlier, and Ashton doesn’t quite know how he feels about that. Before he gets a chance to think of a response, another Snap ticks in.

‘ _Nice chest by the way, goes well with your nice face!_ ’

Completely and utterly against his will, Ashton smiles, and he promptly buries his face in his pillow to squash it. He stays like that until he’s certain he can control whatever the hell his face thinks it’s doing, before he replies with a completely blank-faced selfie, sans caption. While not certain what he’s trying to convey, he thinks it’s a good enough answer.

Unwilling to keep his attention on his phone in case Michael responds, he hurriedly turns the sound off before putting it, screen down, on his nightstand, then hits the lights. Sleep doesn’t come for a long, long time, and as per usual when that’s the case, he catches himself thinking that it’d be nice to have someone lying next to him, if only to hear their breathing and feel traces of their body heat.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ **4** ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

It’s a couple of days later when Ashton caves and treats himself to a hot chocolate the moment his shift ends at eight o’clock. With his last final having been completed two days prior and only seven days left until Christmas eve, he feels like he’s earned it. He grabs it to go, bidding Lydia goodbye as she’s preparing to close up for the day, and sips on it as he walks along the streets on his way home. It’s hot, is the thing, because Christmas in Australia means scorching temperatures and, more often than not, blazing sun, and by the time he reaches the front door of his apartment building, small droplets of sweat have started gathering on his forehead.

Making his way up the three flights of stairs does nothing to help his predicament, and he thinks to himself that maybe it’s time he starts jogging again. Their apartment door is unlocked when he gets there, and the moment he enters, the sounds of merry conversation reach his ears. A quick look at the floor in the entrance hall tells him that there are two pairs of shoes there that don’t belong to either himself nor Calum.

After dropping off his backpack in his bedroom, he heads to the kitchen, and it’s not until it’s already too late to run and hide that he realises who the two pairs of shoes belong to. One belongs to Luke, predictably enough, and the other one appears to belong to Michael. Either that or there’s a third extra person in their apartment, and Michael came over wearing nothing on his feet.

It takes a hot moment for either of the three to realise that Ashton’s standing there in the doorway, eyeing them with a blank expression.

“Look who decided to embrace the Christmas spirit,” Calum says with a grin, gesturing towards the cup in Ashton’s hand. He’s busy placing a layer of pasta plates in a casserole.

“Listening to you calling me bitter and grumpy seventy times a day was getting old,” Ashton says. He downs the last of his drink, which has turned lukewarm, before tossing the empty cup in the trash. “So, are we having a dinner party, or…?”

“Mhm, figured it was a good time since you’re done with your exams now and Michael finished his yesterday and I’m done with all that as of last year and Luke never bothered trying to get a higher education in the first place.”

Luke grins, winding his arms around Calum’s shoulders from the back and kissing his shoulders. “Thanks, babe.”

“I- fucking hell, Luke, how’s that a compliment?” Ashton asks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ. The fact that you’ve made it this far in life without walking into oncoming traffic or having fallen victim to a scam is a damn miracle.”

Luke shrugs his shoulders, face still buried in Calum’s back. “Michael said the same thing last week.”

Ashton looks properly at Michael for the first time then, and Michael looks right back. Shrugging, he says, “I keep telling him he’d have been kidnapped years ago if he didn’t have people looking out for him. Namely, me and Cal.”

“Okay, okay,” Calum says as he puts grated cheese on top of a layer of tomato sauce. “He’s not _that_ bad. Besides, he’s so sweet that it makes up for any… shortcomings he might have in other areas.”

Again, Luke says, “Thanks, babe,” and it’s all Ashton can do to not roll his eyes. 

Grabbing himself a Coke from the fridge, he steps out to the living room and turns on the TV, locating the evening news before he pops the can open and makes himself comfortable on the couch. He can hear the chattering going on in the kitchen, can hear Calum’s even voice, accompanied by Luke’s high-pitched giggles and Michael’s easy laughter, and he sighs as he lets himself sink further into the couch cushions. Maybe he is a bit of a grump, considering he chose to sit alone on the couch and drink Coke rather than socialising in the kitchen while-

“Hello.” 

Ashton looks up just in time to see Michael sitting down next to him, offering an easy smile before he pops open his own can of Coke and takes a swig.

Smacking his lips, Ashton asks, “You’re not gonna spend the whole evening accusing me of flirting with you, are you?”

Michael’s lips stretch out to a bright smile. “Depends on whether or not you plan on flirting with me,” he says. “And I don’t like the word ‘accuse’ in this context, it makes it sound like I didn’t like that you were flirting.”

“I never flirted with you,” Ashton says. “Like, literally not even once.”

“I also don’t like misuse of the word, ‘literally’.”

“Neither do I, but in this case it was used correctly. Believe me.”

Michael shrugs his shoulders, redirecting his eyes to the TV. “Whatever you say, Ashton. You’ve totally been flirting with me, though.”

“I- fucking hell, why do you- why are you like this?” Ashton sputters. “Why do keep telling me that I’m flirting with you when I’m _not_? I don’t even know you, and I’m really not the flirty type!”

“Are you gonna punch me or scream at me if _I_ flirt?”

“What?” Ashton makes a face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What, just because you don’t flirt, you don’t even know the meaning of the word?” Michael laughs. “Am I allowed to flirt with you or are you against the concept in general?”

“No, I’m not against the-” Ashton presses his lips together, then shakes his head once. “Why are you being like this? You don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to, though,” Michael says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Isn’t that why people flirt?”

“People flirt to get laid, not to get to know each other.”

“Flirting can serve several different purposes, sometimes all at once.”

“Ah, so you’re trying to get me in the sack.”

“No, I’m trying to get to know you.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“You’re a piece of work, has anyone ever told you?” Michael says, but it sounds less irritated and more… fond than the words in themselves would suggest. “I’ve met you once before and Cal’s always talking about you, and Luke, too, when his brain’s properly connected to reality, and you’re someone I’d like to get to know. If you’re not interested in anything romantic or sexual, then I’d like to be friends. Is that so hard to believe?”

Ashton just stares, because yes, that is hard to believe. Not once in his life has Ashton just decided that he wanted to get to know someone; all his friends have entered his life naturally (like Calum or Lydia) or forcibly (like Luke), and the few people he’s dated have just sort of… happened without a second thought spared. He’s not damaged goods, he’s not traumatised by anything in his past, he’s just… inexperienced, in a way, simply because that’s how his life has panned out.

“Do what you want,” he says in the end before taking a generous sip of his Coke in an attempt at flushing down the stupidity of the words.

Michael takes a moment to respond. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Ashton shakes his head. “No, you’re not… making me uncomfortable,” he says, and it’s the truth. He’s not uncomfortable, just confused and a little unsure of what to do with himself.

“Okay, so…?”

“So… what?”

“ _So_ , am I allowed to flirt, make a move, whatever you wanna call it? Or do you wanna be friends instead?”

“You’re very straight-forward, in case you didn’t know,” Ashton says, throwing a quick sideways glance at Michael’s profile. He’s smiling.

“Just wanna know if you’re interested or not.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“Do you wanna reply?”

Ashton drags a hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process, before he replies. “If I say that yes, I am interested, what is it you want from me? A weird thing where we flirt for no reason, or a sexual thing, or…?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dating, actually, but… whatever you want, I guess,” Michael says. He says it so easily, the words coming out seemingly effortlessly, and Ashton would love to know how he does that, how a person can possess that kind of easiness. Has he always been like that or is it something he’s learned along the way?

“You wanna date me,” Ashton says slowly, and when he looks at Michael this time, he allows his eyes to stay there. “Like… dinners and movies and, I don’t know, whatever else people do when they date?”

Turning his head to meet Ashton’s gaze, Michael smiles crookedly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“And where’s that supposed to lead us?”

“Depends on how it goes, doesn’t it?” Michael says. “If it goes to shit, at least we gave it a go and we can all have a laugh about it, and if not… well, then time will tell.”

Ashton opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it once again. He’s about to answer Michael when there’s a shout from the entrance hall. “We’re going out!” Calum calls.

“What?” Ashton calls back. “Where are you going? And what about dinner?” 

“Dinner’s in the oven, the timer will go off in about half an hour!” Call responds. “Salad’s in the fridge, garlic bread in the freezer if you want some!”

Ashton makes a bewildered face at Michael, who looks just as confused as Ashton feels. “And what are _we_ supposed to do?”

“Anything you want, but Calum hopes you don’t end up shagging on the couch!” Luke shouts, the statement immediately followed by a loud groan from Calum. It’s quiet for a second, then Luke speaks up again. “I wasn’t supposed to say that, apparently! Sorry! But have fun, see you later!”

Neither Ashton nor Michael get the chance to say or do anything at all before the front door slams shut, leaving the apartment in complete and utter, mind-numbing silence. Ashton looks out into the open air, then at the TV, then at Michael, then asks, “Did you know they’d do that?”

“I didn’t, actually, no,” Michael says before taking a sip of his Coke. “But I’m not opposed. This can be our first date.”

“I never even agreed to date you.”

“It can be our first one-on-one friendly dinner, then.” Michael smiles. “Wanna tell me which option you prefer?”

Ashton’s feeling overwhelmed, to say the least, but he’s not entirely sure it’s in a bad way. Michael’s eyeing him, expectantly, but not as if he’s actually _expecting_ anything. Michael would be okay with whatever answer Ashton’s prepared to give him, he realises, even if said answer is that he’d like for Michael to leave, and more than anything else, that’s what prompts him to nod and say, “Okay. This can be a date.”

And the thing is, as the evening progresses, Ashton realises that despite him having agreed to it being labelled ‘a date’, it doesn’t feel too different from hanging out with a new friend. They eat mostly in silence, but it’s in no way an uncomfortable one, and when they’re done, Michael pulls up the Netflix app on the TV and asks Ashton if he wants to watch a movie.

“Just don’t pull up anything action or horror,” Ashton says.

“Rom-com?” Michael suggests, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner that’s so ridiculous Ashton can’t help but laugh. “How about _The Holiday_? I mean, since it almost is the holidays.”

“I’ve never seen it, but sure,” Ashton says. There’s a fair chance he may have eaten more lasagna than necessary, and his belly’s aching ever so slightly, so he lies down on the couch, legs stretched out across Michael’s lap while he rubs his stomach carefully.

“Luke’s made me watch it every year before Christmas since we were twelve or something,” Michael says as he presses play, and the movie starts up. “I used to hate it, but at this point, it’s become a nostalgic aspect of the holidays for me.”

“Hm. How long have you known him?”

“Since we were… eight, I think? And yes, he’s always been a bit of an airhead.”

Ashton smiles. “He’s sweet, though, always cheerful and… it’s annoying, almost, but you can’t really blame the guy for being happy, can you?”

“You can, and I have,” Michael says. He starts dragging his hand slowly up and down along Ashton’s leg, almost absentmindedly by the looks of it. “It gets exhausting at times, living with that much positive energy, so I have to tell him to tone it down every now and again. Or to go take it out on Calum.”

“Oh, so I can blame you for Luke’s irritatingly joyful persona being a near constant presence in my home. I don’t think this is gonna work out, you should leave.”

“What, and risk walking in on Luke’s irritatingly joyful persona riding Calum on the kitchen floor? No, thanks, I’ll pass.”

Ashton groans around a curt laugh. “And once again: Thanks for the mental images.”

They fall into silence again as the movie plays on, and Ashton… he’s comfortable. It’s easy to relax, and maybe it’s because he’s in his own home, but maybe it’s because Michael’s presence is an easy and non-intimidating one. He doesn’t feel like anything’s expected of him, other than that he stays where he is and keeps Michael company, and he realises that he hasn’t had that feeling with a date in several years. Not since his first year of uni, if his memory serves him right.

“You really didn’t know they’d skip out on us?” he asks as the end credits start rolling.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t,” Michael says. “Do you think they planned it or was it all on a whim?”

“No idea, but if they planned it, I’ll skin them alive whenever I see them again.”

Michael laughs as he pokes Ashton’s thigh with his finger. “What, because this evening has been so awful for you?”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Ashton says. “If they were actually planning on forcing a date on us, they deserve to suffer for it, no matter how enjoyable said date may have been.”

“Enjoyable, huh?”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Yes, Michael, it’s been enjoyable. I’ve had a good time.”

“Good to know,” Michael says, and he sounds more pleased than any person should have any right to for no good reason. Ashton’s pretty sure that a quite simple date with _him_ is _not_ a good reason to sound that pleased.

Checking his phone, Ashton blows a raspberry. “It’s getting late, though.”

“How late?”

“Almost midnight.”

“That is late,” Michael agrees. Stretching his arms over his head, he gives Ashton’s calves a gentle nudge, and Ashton swings himself up into a sitting position, planting his feet on the floor. “I should probably get home, then.”

Ashton nods, but his mind’s already straying to his bed. It’s empty and cold, offering no comfort or companionship whatsoever, and Calum’s not around, and Michael… he’s sweet and funny and more direct than anyone Ashton’s ever met in his life, and he doesn’t want him to go just yet.

“Or, you could stay,” he says while rising to his feet, reaching for the remote to turn the TV off. Once he realises how his words might be misconstrued, he closes his eyes and smiles thinly. “Not like that, sorry, I just meant… it’s late and there’s a fair chance Cal and Luke are shagging in your apartment, so if you want, you can stay here tonight. My bed’s big enough for two.”

Michael nods after a moment of apprehension. “Okay, yeah, if you’re alright with it.”

As he goes about turning off the lights in the living room, Ashton rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t alright with it, would I?”

Michael doesn’t respond as he follows Ashton down the hallway and into his bedroom. There’s a split second where Ashton feels a hint of embarrassment over the amount of mess on his bedroom floor, but Michael doesn’t seem to notice as he’s already pulling his jumper over his head.

“Do you wanna borrow something to sleep in?” Ashton asks while he grabs his pyjama bottoms from his desk chair.

“Unless you want me to get dressed, I’m fine like this,” Michael says, gesturing to his half-naked body while he works on getting his trousers off.

“Yeah, no, it’s okay,” Ashton says. He contemplates the situation for a moment, whether or not he should go to the bathroom to get changed, but ultimately decides against it. As quickly as he can, he strips out of his t-shirt and his jeans and steps into his pyjamas before sliding in underneath the covers. Michael’s already laid down on the side that Ashton doesn’t tend to occupy, legs hugging one half of the double doona between them.

“I run hot at night,” Michael says once Ashton’s gotten comfortable. “I don’t like wearing clothes to bed.”

“Hm. It’s alright, I don’t mind,” Ashton says, stifling a yawn. “Do you wanna, you know, come a little closer?”

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up in apparent surprise, but he doesn’t hesitate to bridge the gap between their bodies, tucking his head in underneath Ashton’s chin, placing a hand on his bare waist. He seems to fit against Ashton’s body in the most natural way, and Ashton smiles as he lets his eyes flutter shut.

“You run cold,” Michael remarks, his lips brushing against Ashton’s throat with each word. “Opposite of me.”

“Mhm, how beautiful,” Ashton says dryly. “I’ll write you a poem about it tomorrow.”

“Never pegged you for such a romantic,” Michael says, feigning a sigh of adoration. Maybe there’s a fraction of it that isn’t fake, if Ashton lets himself listen close enough.

“All a part of the ‘Getting to know Ashton Irwin’-experience,” Ashton says. “It’s quite extensive, I assure you.”

“Good thing I’m not in a rush. And that I’m a good student. Extensive and tiresome learning experiences is something I excel at.”

“Oh, yeah, same, just wait and you’ll see,” Ashton says, and Michael chuckles. Despite himself, Ashton smiles again and lets himself enjoy the flutter in his chest for a moment. It feels good, and a little foreign after having gone without for a long while, and Ashton opts to act on it by folding his arms loosely around Michael’s shoulders and planting a lingering kiss on his forehead. Michael all but melts into it, and for a moment, Ashton wonders if he’s not the only one in the room who’s gone too long without physical closeness to a person he felt something for, regardless if said feelings are hardly anything at all or an unspoken, hopeful promise.

“Who’d have thought,” Michael murmurs as he kisses Ashton’s collarbone. “All bite and surly comments out in the world, then I get you in bed and you’re nothing but softness and cuddles.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nah. It’s surprising, but a welcome surprise.” Scooting an inch or two further up, Michael rubs his nose against Ashton’s chin. His lips ghost along Ashton’s jawline when he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Ashton’s heart stills completely, then it picks back up, and its beat is the slightest bit more rapid than before when he nods and mumbles, “Yeah.”

Michael’s lips feel every bit as soft and full as they look when they connect with Ashton’s in a simple and innocent, yet drawn-out kiss. It’s a kiss that has Ashton’s skin prickle, starting in his abdomen, working its way up to his cheeks, and when Michael’s tongue makes a tentative lick along the seam of his lips, he falls completely into it. And while the kiss heats up and gets punctuated by sighs and moans within a few minutes, and while it eventually leads to them shedding their clothes and kicking the covers aside to jerk each other off, there are no traces of the unpleasantly hollow feeling in Ashton’s gutt that late night hook-ups tend to bring with them.

Afterwards, when they’re both spent and Michael’s head is once again tucked under Ashton’s chin and Ashton has pulled the covers back over them, the silence in the room is tangible in its heaviness.

“So,” Ashton says as he combs his fingers through Michael’s hair. “Do you still wanna date me, or…?”

Michael laughs, and it’s a soft, sleepy noise. “Of course I do. If anything, I want it even more now.”

Ashton swallows as his heart speeds up again. “Okay. I can get on board with it.”

“Hm. Just answer me one thing: Were you really not flirting with me on Snapchat?”

Snorting, Ashton gives Michael’s hair a light tug. “No, you dumbfuck, I wasn’t.”

Michael makes a noise that tells Ashton he doesn’t believe that for one second, but his breathing has become deep and even, and Ashton doesn’t have the heart to continue arguing.

Maybe tomorrow.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ **1** ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Ashton wakes up the following morning with a mouthful of hair and a clammy body clinging to him. While a small part of him loathes the clammy-part, the rest of him insists on reacting to the situation by smiling and pulling Michael’s body as close to his own as physically possible. He has no idea what time it is, but he can see the sun peeking through a gap in his curtains, so it can’t be too early, nor can it be late afternoon. As he lies there, lost in thought, his stomach makes an unhappy noise, and he grimaces. Kissing the top of Michael’s head, he gently pries himself free, smiling when Michael snuffles unhappily at the loss of contact, then locates his pyjama bottoms on the floor and pulls them on.

The kitchen, as well as the living room, are blessedly deserted, and he rubs his eyes sleepily as he gets the coffee maker started. He looks at the clock on the microwave, and is both surprised and pleased to discover that it’s barely nine o’clock; he’s been known to sleep until well past noon when there’s no alarm clock waiting for him. As he stands there, waiting for the coffee maker to finish doing its thing, a sound somewhere to his right makes him raise his head. Michael’s padding across the kitchen floor, wearing what Ashton recognises as one of his own trackies, and he looks half-dead on his feet.

“Morning,” he mumbles as he all but falls into Ashton’s body, arms winding around his waist.

Returning the embrace, Ashton says, “I’m just gonna go ahead and guess that you’re not a morning person.”

“Wanna sleep. ‘M tired.”

“Then go back to bed.”

“Don’t wanna, it was boring there without you.”

“Right, yes, because the main purpose of sleeping is that it’s supposed to be entertaining.”

“It should be,” Michael murmurs into Ashton’s neck. “Why are you up?”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but unlike you, I enjoy mornings if I greet them at my own free will.”

“Masochist,” Michael slurs. With what is apparently a great display of strength, he straightens up 5 and kisses Ashton with soft, dry lips. “I don’t wanna be awake yet. Can I go back to bed for a couple of hours?”

“I already told you you could,” Ashton snorts. “Want me to wake you up at some point or do you wanna sleep until you wake up on your own?”

“Wake me up at eleven?”

“Deal. I’ll have breakfast ready.”

Michael visibly lights up at that. “Yeah? Anything tasty?”

“I’m not a good cook, but tell me what would make you happy and I’ll try and make it happen.”

There’s a brief lull before Michael responds, but when he does, it’s with a smile so bright it could rival the damn sun. “That was flirting, right?” he says. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t flirting.”

Ashton groans, but he can’t help but smile as he does. “Okay, fine, yeah, that was flirting. A really stupid attempt, but… sure, it was flirting.”

“You tried, that’s what matters,” Michael says. He captures Ashton’s lips in a searing kiss that may last for ten seconds, but it also might be ten minutes, before he takes a step back. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Please do,” Ashton says. “I don’t wanna have to carry you back in there if you fall asleep here and now.”

“But you could, if you wanted to?” Michael says as he backs out of the kitchen, eyes drifting from Ashton’s face and down to the hemline of his pyjama bottoms, then back up.

“Probably, but I don’t wanna.”

“Another time,” Michael says. He offers one last smile before he turns around and disappears out into the hallway. Another few seconds later, Ashton hears his bedroom door being closed, and he grins stupidly for no one to see as he pours himself a cup of the now finished coffee.

If pulling out a flirtatious comment on occasion is awarded with sexy, sleepy, cuddly boys in his kitchen, Ashton reckons he can do it more often. For the time being, he’d prefer only doing it for Michael, though.


End file.
